


Eight Pieces for Piano

by Autumn_Llleaves



Category: Sherlock Holmes (1984 TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama, F/M, Inspired by Music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24424585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Autumn_Llleaves/pseuds/Autumn_Llleaves
Summary: What if Violet Smith from “The Solitary Cyclist” wasn’t engaged and Carruthers managed to marry her?Eight vignettes inspired by Schumann’sFantasiestücke.
Relationships: Bob Carruthers/Violet Smith
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	1. Des Abends (In the Evening)

“Miss Smith, would you like to play something?”

Violet nodded, smiling. Sparks of the candles’ light danced in her blond curls. 

It wasn’t really necessary to ask. They had already made a sort of tradition out of it. Almost every evening was spent in the living-room, where Violet quietly played something at the piano. Sometimes Sarah joined her – Carruthers heard that children usually detest music lessons, but it seemed his daughter was a happy exception from the rule. Most probably, thanks to Violet, who got on spendidly with her pupil from the very start.

“Schumann’s _Fantasiestücke_?” Violet suggested.

“A wonderful choice.”

The gentle melody of the first piece filled the room. It was just perfect for a quiet evening together, thought Carruthers.

Together… He let out a shaky breath.

“Are you all right, sir?” she turned to him immediately.

“No, not at all. Please continue, everything’s fine.”

_How lovely she is when she smiles dreamily like this… I can’t suffer thinking that Violet will one day marry this ruffian Woodley. And she’s become such good friends with Sarah, my little girl has never become so fond of her governesses before…_

Every time he looked at Violet, his heart clenched with near-reverent admiration and nagging anxiety at the same time. If only he could, he wouldn’t ever let her out of his sight… a silly dream, he knew it, but he couldn’t forget it, try as he might. From Saturday morning till Monday morning, he was always tormented by fear for Violet, thinking of everything that could happen to her, from the attack of Woodley and Williamson to a crash of the London train.

He had never felt like that about his late wife. He married Caroline in a fit of youthful infatuation, and they barely saw each other afterwards: he mostly lived in South Africa, only occasionally visiting his wife, and then she died in childbirth in their fifteenth year of marriage.

Caroline had been pretty, good-natured, witty enough, clever with the household duties… and nothing else. Even at the height of his early passion for her, he had never been overcome with this torturous longing, a desperate wish to care, to protect…

Apparently, Violet had felt him staring. Her cheeks grew scarlet with embarrassment, and Carruthers hurried to avert his eyes. He didn’t want her to think he was as impertinent as Woodley. 


	2. Aufschwung (Upswing)

“No! I won’t allow it!”

The yell echoed across the forest. Carruthers felt a bit unsettled himself. 

“What do you mean, you won’t allow it? What about your precious share of fortune for your precious little daughter?”

“Violet hates the sight of you! I could barely talk her out of leaving me after the scene you made!”

Woodley rolled his eyes:

“What’s the problem? If she’s so delicate, we’ll live separately. As if I couldn’t find all kinds of other charming girls! We only need to get her to the altar and make sure we have the money, and I’ll figure out what to do later.”

“No! I won’t see her humiliated by the likes of you!” cried Carruthers. His accomplice chuckled, unfazed:

“Calm down, you moralist. Marry her yourself, then.”

“Me?” Carruthers exclaimed. It had been settled for so long that Woodley would be the bridegroom, and he couldn’t even think that the latter would offer an exchange. What sane man could refuse Violet?

“Certainly. She seems to get on well with you. Give me my share of the money, and you can live happily ever after with your pretty doll. I won’t bother you again. You know that Jack Woodley never tricks his friends,” it was true. Whatever Woodley did, he was always completely honest with his accomplices and fulfilled any promise with scrupulous precision.

Carruthers caught his breath. Violet was his wife, she would never leave him, she would be a new mother to Sarah, and he wouldn’t have to restrain himself and treat Violet with that foolish polite ceremony, he could freely talk of his love, and do more than talk, and she was saved from a horrid marriage with Woodley…

 _She isn’t your wife yet and can still reject you._ But he pushed the treacherous thought away.

“I see you like the idea, don’t you?” Woodley winked at him. “Don’t drag it on, the old man can die any moment. If your sweetheart learns of the fortune before the wedding, we’re done for.” 


	3. Warum? (Why?)

“Violet, I need to tell you something.”

Violet, who was sitting by the fireplace with her music book, gave a start and looked at Mr. Carruthers in surprise. He had only once called her by her first name before, after throwing Woodley out of the house.

He got up from his armchair and stepped closer, never taking his blue eyes off her. His face looked as calm as always, but his voice betrayed his agitation:

“Since I’ve known you, your kindness and tenderness have won my heart. When you came to my house, my life was filled with joy again, for the first time in many years. You must have noticed my feelings… I swear, my angel, if only you agree to make me happy… I will do everything to ensure you never regret it. Violet – dear Violet – can I hope that you’ll be my wife?”

She felt blood rush to her cheeks. She did suspect Mr. Carruthers was not indifferent towards her, but she wasn’t ready for his intentions to be so serious.

She couldn’t deny it: her feelings for him were also unlike anything she had felt earlier. He was the kindest, cleverest and, last but not least, most tactful man she had ever met. They had lived in the same house for a long time, and he had always been a perfect gentleman, not once hinting of his feelings before tonight… He loved music and spoke a lot about his travels, and it was very interesting to talk to him. Yes, he had a daughter from his first marriage, but Violet was sure Sarah would be happy to find a new mother in “dear Miss Smith”.

However, there was still some caution in her heart, and it was easy to understand why.

“I am very flattered by your proposal, sir, and I realize you are moved by a deep and genuine feeling…” she began. Mr. Carruthers’ face fell, clearly thinking she was going to refuse at once. “But it’s quite sudden for me, and I would like to think it over for one week.”

His eyes lit up with hope again:

“Of course, Violet!”

“And… please tell me, what are your dealings with that horrible Woodley?”

Mr. Carruthers blushed:

“Um… it’s not a very pretty story. I see for myself he is a dreadful man, but I… I was foolhardy enough to loan a good sum of money from him, er, back in Africa. Until my… profits from the African mines cover my debt, I have to stay in touch with him. But I beg you, don’t worry. Woodley won’t enter this house again. I threatened him with the police.”

“When do you expect to pay him the debt?”

“Soon, you can be sure! The cable from South Africa is due to arrive any day now.”

Violet sighed with relief. It looked like Mr. Carruthers was as eager as herself to get rid of Woodley for good.

She looked at him again – he gave her a gentle smile – and her heart beat wildly. At that moment, she nearly decided to accept his proposal right there and then, and only just mustered her willpower to remind herself to wait for a week and think of everything calmly.

_If I refuse him after all, I’ll have to leave his employment. Such a pity – but after tonight, how can I go back to simply working for him?_


	4. Grillen (Whims)

Violet had always loved to walk after the rain, especially in the country, where the air in such hours was particularly fresh and sweet, and the leaves and grass glittered like emeralds. That’s why, when Sarah, after two hours spent with Chopin’s études, realized that the rain that had kept pouring since morning had finally stopped, and invited her teacher to a game of badminton in the garden, Violet agreed gladly.

The game didn’t go too well because of the strong wind: the shuttlecock kept falling, and leaves and wet sand got stuck to it. But Violet wasn’t much bothered by it, and neither was Sarah – the girl laughed merrily, picking up the shuttlecock for the hundredth time.

 _Maybe Sarah will soon become my daughter,_ Violet thought. Exactly a week had passed after the proposal of Mr. Carruthers, but, to her confusion, she still felt uncertain about her answer, for no apparent reason. _I will be delighted to take care of her. Her father is a wonderful man – why haven’t I given him my answer yet?_

She heard the garden gate open. Mr. Carruthers came back from London.

“Dad!” Sarah squealed, putting her racquet on the grass and running to meet him. He scooped her up and twirled her in the air.

“Dad, Miss Smith and I have finished the lesson, and now we’re playing badminton,” Sarah told him. Still holding her in his arms, he turned to Violet.

Violet felt a pang in her heart at this simple sight. Mr. Carruthers looked at her with so much warmth and love! How could she ever doubt him? It suddenly came into her head that it must have been terribly hard for him, to raise a daughter, all alone. She felt an urge to help him, to support him somehow at least. At this moment she realized she wouldn’t leave him – she just wouldn’t be able to.

Sarah was constantly at her father’s side, so Violet could only talk to him alone after dinner, when the girl had gone to her room at last.

“Mr. Carruthers,” Violet said when they were drinking tea in the living-room, “I have thought about your proposal.”

“Are you ready to answer, Miss Smith, or do you need some more time?” he asked. His nervousness was obvious to her, try as he might to speak calmly.

“My answer is yes,” Violet murmured – to her own surprise, she suddenly felt terribly embarrassed. She managed to pull herself together, though, and continued more firmly:

“I’ve realized that you have become endlessly dear to me,” she felt her courage rise with every word. “Mr. Carruthers, I will be incredibly happy to become your wife.”

“Robert,” he said, staring at her in astonishment. “My name’s Robert, Violet.”

“I’ll have to get used to it,” she laughed.

He took her hand and drew her to him. Violet shivered with excitement.

“I never thought I’d be able to love anyone so much,” Mr. Carruthers said quietly. “Violet – can I kiss you?”

Her head spinning, she could only nod. She was a bit frightened, but, of course, it wasn’t the sort of fright she felt when Woodley grabbed her – now it was more like standing on top of a hill in winter, thrilled to slide down on a sleigh but slightly dizzy from the height.

Mr. Carruthers leaned towards her face. The light touch of his lips made Violet’s cheeks burn. Her heartbeat drummed in her temples.

“If it’s all right with you, shall we announce the engagement tomorrow?” he whispered, pulling slightly back. Suddenly Violet giggled, realizing her lips now held the taste of sweetened tea (she herself drank it without sugar), and for a moment she was ashamed to think of such trifles at this life-changing moment. But when Mr. Carruthers smiled back at her, she remembered what her mother had once told her: “You want to laugh more often than ever when you’re in the company of people you love.”

Now Violet was completely certain she had made the right decision. 


	5. In der Nacht (In the Night)

Unfamiliar – this was the best word to describe Violet’s new life.

The engagement passed in a complete blur, and soon Violet found herself in church, wearing a white dress, arm-in-arm with Robert. With bated breath, she listened to old Vicar Clifton pronouncing them man and wife.

She had had no objections to a short engagement. Quite the contrary. It’s just that she had to get used to all sorts of changes.

To the servants, she now was “Mrs. Carruthers, ma’am”, and she had to keep an eye on their work and see that the wages were duly paid. Sarah immediately began calling her “Mommy”, and, apart from the music lessons, Violet had to oversee the rest of the girl’s studying, balance between extreme strictness and extreme indulgence towards her, and comfort her after her nightmares.

Then, of course, there was Robert… She found herself in the arms of her recent employer and was now “darling Violet” instead of “Miss Smith”. It was a very strange feeling – she had scarcely had a month to get used to the idea. Even their usual evenings were now spent in a slightly different way: Robert took to playing duets with her. Violet liked it (and he played quite well, too) – but the changes themselves were just overwhelming.

Now, however, a month after the wedding, she could admit she had more or less got accustomed to her married life. She told Robert so, while they were sitting in the living-room late in the evening.

“That’s excellent,” said Robert. “How about going together on a trip to Margate? Or, say, even to France?” Violet had earlier convinced him she didn’t want to go anywhere on her honeymoon, so that she could get used to managing Chiltern Grange.

“Do we have the money for that?” she asked worriedly. “There’s still your debt to Woodley.”

“We’ve got enough money – I’ve already paid the debt, and I finally want you to enjoy yourself in travels.”

“Oh, why haven’t you told me earlier?” Violet threw her arms around his neck. She was still a bit embarrassed about such open displays of affection, but this time, she was so delighted she forgot it completely. “Does it mean Woodley won’t plague our lives anymore?”

“You can forget about him, my love.”

“Robert, oh, how wonderful!” Violet was shocked at the immense feeling of relief that flooded her heart. She had never admitted it, even to herself, that she was afraid Woodley could still reappear at Chiltern Grange.

“We can go wherever you like. France? Spain? The Alps? Choose it, darling. You can consider the money yours.”

“Now, don’t you spoil me!” she shook her finger at him in playful warning. “There’s already quite a bit of gossip that I married you for your money.”

“The ideas people can get,” for some reason, Robert averted his eyes. “Shall we maybe blow out the candles and go upstairs?”

“Of course… oh, wait just a little. I’ll check the rubbish bin. Vera, the new housemaid, is very inattentive. Yesterday she accidentally threw out my hair ribbon. If something like this happens again, we’ll have to fire her.”

“Let me check it,” he offered unexpectedly.

“Robert, thank you, I can manage,” Violet laughed. “You won’t even recognize my ribbon if it isn’t in my hair.”

“It’s late, my dear, you can check it tomorrow,” he insisted, taking her hand. “Let’s go.”

“What’s the matter with you? It won’t take more than a minute,” she went to the kitchen.

“Violet, please, you don’t need to bother, ask one of the servants…” Robert followed her, growing more anxious with every moment, but she was already leaning over the bin.

“Well! What did I tell you?” she stood up a short while later, holding a crumpled sheet of paper and a torn envelope. “A letter, addressed to me and opened! No, we can’t let Vera work here, or else…” Violet stopped in her tracks as she read the writing on the sheet more carefully.

_Dear Miss Smith,_

_We deeply regret to inform you that your uncle, Ralph Willard Smith, passed away a week ago in Johannesburg…_

“They say he left me an enormous fortune,” Violet whispered, looking at her husband intently. “Judging by the date, he died when I was already living at Chiltern Grange. How would you explain that?”

She felt as if she had just fallen into ice-cold water. All these small oddities – one hundred a year for simple music lessons, Woodley and the mysterious “debt”, the rushed marriage – now fit into a single picture.

“You and Woodley tracked me down, told me a pretty story about my uncle’s poverty and posed as gracious benefactors, while in truth you were out to get the inheritance that you probably divided… how, by the way?”

“I sent a cable to Woodley, and he withdrew his share of the money with the help of a woman accomplice and some copies of your papers that I let him make,” Robert confessed, staring at the floor. “Violet, hear me out, please…”

“So you gave half of my money to that scoundrel, and took the other half for yourself so that you could pretend to be generous! ‘You can consider the money yours’, indeed!”

She burst into tears. Robert stretches his hands towards her, but Violet flinched in disgust:

“Don’t touch me!”

“Violet, I beg you, listen to me… I love you, I have loved you for a long time, and money has nothing to do with it. Woodley planned to marry you himself, but I couldn’t bear the thought of you being tied to him for life…”

“So, instead of telling me the truth, you married me! How incredibly noble!”

“If I hadn’t done it, Woodley would have kidnapped you, and his friend Williamson from Charlington Hall would have wedded you and him!”

Violet gasped. He was still trying to make excuses for himself! Trying not to laugh in a hysterical fit, she said:

“That would have saved me! Williamson, my dear, is defrocked, everyone around here knows that. Even the stupidest of lawyers would have declared such a marriage null and void. Besides… you know, Robert, you are even worse than Woodley. His true nature, at least, was clear from the start.”

Blinking her tears away, she dashed towards the stairs:

“Violet!” Robert cried. “Violet, forgive me… I allowed myself to be dragged into this for Sarah’s sake…”

She put her hands over her ears. Her husband’s voice that she had only recently liked so much was now repulsive to her.

Violet ran into her room, locked up the door and sank on the bed, not holding back her tears anymore. 


	6. Fabel (Fable)

Dreary and lonely days followed their quarrel. Carruthers cursed Woodley, and himself, and even the maid who was at fault for Violet discovering the letter.

In the morning after it happened, Violet came down early for breakfast and said, without waiting for him to speak:

“I will only go on with this farce for Sarah’s sake.”

She did – in Sarah’s presence, she smiled, joked, chattered and played the piano. The moment Sarah walked out of the room, Violet turned into an ice sculpture. She plainly refused to answer when Carruthers tried to talk to her. He could plead for forgiveness, appeal to her sense or remind her of that one happy month – she looked as if she didn’t hear him.

One evening (he would later recall it with particular shame) he grabbed her when she was going up to her room and tried to kiss her. Violet didn’t fight – she merely gave him a sardonic look:

“What other proof do you need? Stop pretending to be better than poor Woodley, you are just the same as him.”

Carruthers jerked away, as if he got burnt. In a few moments, he heard the now-usual turning of the key and felt a lump rise in his throat. 

A few days after that incident, he begged her:

“Violet, I swear, I will give you every penny that my mines in Africa would bring. Just – please, please forgive me!”

She did answer, but in the same emotionless voice:

“You still don’t understand. It’s not about the money – you can keep your pennies. What I would like to know is why you hadn’t told me the truth before the wedding.”

Burning shame gripped his heart, and he had to fight back tears.

“Because… because you would have left me,” he groaned. The revulsion in Violet’s eyes made him wish to vanish from the earth.

In addition to all that, Sarah began to suspect something, even though in her presence, they pretended everything was fine. It was true after all that children could feel the conflicts that were kept secret from them. Carruthers frequently saw her looking at him in worry and confusion, and soon she was refusing to go on family outings and became the first to leave the table after every meal, obviously sensing the tension between Carruthers and Violet. He even noticed, or thought he noticed, that she was getting paler and thinner.

By the end of the third week of this existence (was it really just the third week?), he couldn’t bear it anymore.

“Violet, I shall go to Africa again,” he told her at breakfast. “Woodley won’t come here anymore, and other than that, the neighborhood’s quiet. You don’t have to fear anything.”

“Good,” she snapped. She didn’t even ask when he was planning to return, not even for the sake of politeness!

“I only ask one thing of you: please, look after Sarah. The poor child is already suffering because of us, stay by her side.”

“Of course. I think I told you: it’s for her sake that I’m still here at all.”

“Later, maybe, I’ll arrange things so that I’ll work in London. This way, I’ll be able both to visit Sarah and… and not to bother you too much.”

“Good,” she repeated. “I also have one thing to ask: I won’t find out how exactly you’ll make money in Africa, anyway, but don’t treat anyone as horribly as me.”

 _Violet, don’t talk like this, my darling, my delight…_ He had already understood, though, that she didn’t want to listen to professions of love.

“I promise,” he said firmly. Perhaps it was mere wishful thinking, but he thought he saw a glimmer in her eyes. 


	7. Traumes Wirren (Dream's Confusion)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In view of the recent events in the world, I would like to clarify that this chapter's bleak depiction of Carruthers' journey to Cape Town and Johannesburg has nothing to do with any sort of racism. The chapter is set between the two Boer Wars, which means tensions in their zenith, and Carruthers has his personal problems with the bandit gang he used to belong to.

“Thank you, Mrs. Carruthers,” the vicar smiled. “Nobody volunteered for it after my wife’s death, I’ve even written to the bishop, but somehow there were no candidates for our place…”

Violet thought to herself that it would have been strange if anyone had agreed to become the organist of this little church in the middle of nowhere – she doubted the parish could afford to pay them a hundred a year. 

“But are you sure you’ll manage?”

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll be happy to play the organ.”

The vicar nodded, looking at her with pity. He suspected that there had been some quarrel between Mrs. Carruthers and her husband – why else would Mr. Carruthers go away so suddenly after the wedding?

As for Violet herself, she wanted to make herself as busy with all sorts of work as possible and forget what happened between her and Robert, at least for some time.

* * *

Carruthers was woken up by a loud thump on the wall. After a few seconds, he heard yet another, quieter thump.

He scowled and rolled to another side of the bed. It was hard to come back to reality – his stuffy little cabin had nothing in common with Chiltern Grange, where he had been until these damned thumps pulled him out. There had been Violet, who wasn’t vexed at anything because he had met her by accident and not because of the inheritance, and Sarah, who played the violin for some reason…

There was thumping again, this time at the door:

“Sir! Get up, quickly! We’ve collided with a Boer ship!”

* * *

Sarah often cried at night after her father left. Violet had to carefully talk to her several times before she could finally see the whole problem. Sarah was used enough to Robert being away on business, but she sensed that there had been a quarrel in the family, and she feared that both he and Violet had stopped loving her.

The matter was that in September Sarah was to go to Queen's College; it had long been planned by Robert and heartily approved by Violet. But now that the term's beginning was drawing near, the girl started to think that Violet was simply trying to get rid of her. 

As Violet tried to console her, she ended up bursting into tears herself and offered Sarah to go to school a year later. This time Sarah felt sorry for her and didn't want to look pampered, so she eventually reconciled herself to the thought of Queen's College – on the firm condition that Mommy would take her home for Christmas.

Violet assured her she would.

* * *

Carruthers was sitting on a bench in the port of Cape Town and watching the sea gloomily. The _Lucinda_ had sunk rapidly, and all his things and money were gone with her. Captain Gumpton, of course, cursed the "blasted Boers", calling for hurricanes, sandstorms and hungry sharks to strike them, but it didn't make the situation any easier for the ship's few passengers.

Actually, Carruthers began to suspect that the Boers weren't that responsible for the collision. The _Lucinda_ was an old, shabby vessel, there were really very few passengers on board, and he hadn't noticed any valuable cargo, either.

But, whoever caused the collision, the Boers or Captain Gumpton himself, Carruthers didn't know what to do. He wouldn't get to Johannesburg so easily now, and he couldn't afford to wait for the next England-bound ship – and had no money for a ticket either. He _could_ take a loan and cable Violet for help, but he decided to keep it as last resort. He didn't want to spend a farthing of her inheritance.

* * *

The house became very quiet after Sarah left. Violet, on her side, would have been happy to give music lessons to the poor children of the parish, but both the vicar and her housekeeper, Mrs. Dixon, were adamantly against it. 

"You should wait for a year at least, ma'am," said Mrs. Dixon. "We're old-fashioned around here. Nobody would like it if you start teaching in your condition."

Violet smiled with slight embarrassment. She was shocked to discover she was pregnant – shortly before Sarah went to school (and if it hadn't been for Mrs. Dixon, she could have still remained clueless about what was happening to her). Her feelings about it were... mixed.

* * *

Sometimes Carruthers felt he wouldn't survive by honest means. Cape Colony was in turmoil. When he finally managed (after a month of menial jobs and selling his pearl pin) to reach Johannesburg, he was very tempted to join the gang where he and Woodley had met once again.

He sent a cable to Violet to let her know he was fine, even though he didn't know whether she would be pleased about it.

He didn't join the local thieves after all, and they made sure his mine was attacked by a group of Boers. Carruthers knew who was really behind the attack, because he got a note that read _What about Smith's money?_

* * *

_Dear Mr. Edelmore,_

_I have read of your daughter's engagement in the paper and I am sorry to say that I can't offer congratulations. Miss Edelmore's fiancé is known to me as Jack Woodley, and he is the worst rascal born on Earth. I myself nearly fell victim to him, that is why I recognized him at once in the photograph, even though he had altered his appearance. For you to be certain that it is not a vile slander or an idle attempt to blacken the name of your future son-in-law, I attach the money you can pay to a private detective who would find out all the details about this man's past._

_I remain yours sincerely,_

_Violet Carruthers._

* * *

_My dearest, beloved Violet,_

_I caught some nasty tropical fever, so could you please address the cables and letters to Dr. Petersen (he knows English)? When I get better, I'll come home immediately – I am really sick of these colonial politics. It seems there'll be a new war._

_Violet, I am terribly sorry that everything ended so badly between us. Forgive me, if you can._

_You and Sarah are in my prayers every day._

_Yours ever,_

_Robert._

* * *

"Doctor, how is it?" asked Carruthers. The fever and pain had passed, but he still felt very weak.

"Everything goes as it should," the doctor said. "I told you you'll have to keep lying down for a long while. Oh, a cable came today, from your wife, though it's a bit confusing."

"Where?" Carruthers tried to prop himself on his elbows but fell back on the bed. "Give it here, maybe... I'll manage to... read it myself..."

"Calm down! Lie quietly," and the doctor read to him:

"You have daughter Emily, stop. Woodley locked up, stop. I will think about us, stop."


	8. Ende vom Lied (End of the Song)

Mrs. Dixon brought them tea and the sponge cake baked to celebrate Robert's return. Emily was already asleep in the next room, watched over by the nurse, strong, capable Mrs. McLuhan, who had previously taken care of baby Sarah as well. 

"Violet, thank you for everything," Robert said quietly. Despite traveling in the south for almost a year, he was even paler than before, probably because of the illness he had suffered, and he looked completely exhausted. "For Sarah and Emily. For helping the detectives track Woodley down. For... for meeting me today," when Violet greeted him, there wasn't a hint of their quarrel in her behavior – she kissed him tenderly, said how happy she was to see him back, safe and sound, and then talked cheerfully about little Emily. "Now I would like... I don't know..." he hesitated. 

"I also think we need to talk, Robert," she said softly. There was no need to say what about. 

"Do you perhaps want a divorce?" he asked, resigned. "I will be able to pretend to have an affair... I suppose."

"No, Robert," said Violet with a smile. "If you had suggested it last year, I'd have agreed – and would have undoubtedly regretted it later."

"Is it because of Emily?"

"Not just because of her. By the way, you needn't worry that I'll colden towards Sarah now, I love both our girls... So, I was saying – I corresponded with you all this time. And Dr. Petersen as well wrote to me when you were ill, he spoke very highly of you, even though you're the subject of... let's not say what he called the Queen."

"And now you think we'll manage to live with each other?" Robert whispered.

"I think we ought to try. Our marriage was founded on a lie, there's nothing we can do about it now... but I want to believe that not all of it was a lie. That the man I fell in love with last spring isn't imaginary."

Robert took her hand and gave her a touched smile. Violet thought she saw tears glisten in his eyes again. She also felt an ache in her cheekbones, the sort one gets when trying not to cry, even though she had been getting ready for this talk for a long time. 

For a while, they kept silent. After all the tensions of last year, Violet finally felt calm.

The grandfather clock struck ten. Violet glanced towards it, and her eyes fell on the piano that stood close to it:

"Robert, have you missed our musical evenings?"

"Do you want to play something?" he asked, incredulous. 

"Why not?"

"How about Schumann's _Fantasiestücke_?" Robert offered. 

"I've got a bit tired of these," Violet said mischievously. "I'm more in a duet mood today. Will _Bilder aus Osten_ suit you?"

"Absolutely," Robert's eyes lit up. 

Still holding her hand, he got up and followed her towards the piano.


End file.
